The Haunted Hotel Page 01
A Mystery of Modern Venice
(after the edition of Chatto & Windus, London, 1879)
THE FIRST PART
CHAPTER I
In the year 1860, the reputation of Doctor Wybrow as a London physician reached its highest point. It was reported on good authority that he was in receipt of one of the largest incomes derived from the practice of medicine in modern times.
One afternoon, towards the close of the London season, the Doctor had just taken his luncheon after a specially hard morning's work in his consulting-room, and with a formidable list of visits to patients at their own houses to fill up the rest of his day-- when the servant announced that a lady wished to speak to him.
'Who is she?' the Doctor asked. 'A stranger?'
'Yes, sir.'
'I see no strangers out of consulting-hours. Tell her what the hours are, and send her away.'
'I have told her, sir.'
'Well?'
'And she won't go.'
'Won't go?' The Doctor smiled as he repeated the words. He was a humourist in his way; and there was an absurd side to the situation which rather amused him. 'Has this obstinate lady given you her name?' he inquired.
'No, sir. She refused to give any name--she said she wouldn't keep you five minutes, and the matter was too important to wait till to-morrow. There she is in the consulting-room; and how to get her out again is more than I know.'
Doctor Wybrow considered for a moment. His knowledge of women (professionally speaking) rested on the ripe experience of more than thirty years; he had met with them in all their varieties-- especially the variety which knows nothing of the value of time, and never hesitates at sheltering itself behind the privileges of its sex. A glance at his watch informed him that he must soon begin his rounds among the patients who were waiting for him at their own houses. He decided forthwith on taking the only wise course that was open under the circumstances. In other words, he decided on taking to flight.
'Is the carriage at the door?' he asked.
'Yes, sir.'
'Very well. Open the house-door for me without making any noise, and leave the lady in undisturbed possession of the consulting-room. When she gets tired of waiting, you know what to tell her. If she asks when I ** expected to return, say that I dine at my club, and spend the evening at the theatre. Now then, softly, Thomas! If your shoes creak, I ** a lost man.'
He noiselessly led the way into the hall, followed by the servant on tip-toe.
Did the lady in the consulting-room suspect him? or did Thomas's shoes creak, and was her sense of hearing unusually keen? Whatever the explanation may be, the event that actually happened was beyond all doubt. Exactly as Doctor Wybrow passed his consulting-room, the door opened--the lady appeared on the threshold-- and laid her hand on his arm.
'I entreat you, sir, not to go away without letting me speak to you first.'
The accent was foreign; the tone was low and firm. Her fingers closed gently, and yet resolutely, on the Doctor's arm.
Neither her language nor her action had the slightest effect in inclining him to grant her request. The influence that instantly stopped him, on the way to his carriage, was the silent influence of her face. The startling contrast between the corpse-like pallor of her complexion and the overpowering life and light, the glittering metallic brightness in her large black eyes, held him literally spell-bound. She was dressed in dark colours, with perfect taste; she was of middle height, and (apparently) of middle age--say a year or two over thirty. Her lower features--the nose, mouth, and chin-- possessed the fineness and delicacy of form which is oftener seen among women of foreign races than among women of English birth. She was unquestionably a handsome person--with the one serious drawback of her ghastly complexion, and with the less noticeable defect of a total want of tenderness in the expression of her eyes. Apart from his first emotion of surprise, the feeling she produced in the Doctor may be described as an overpowering feeling of professional curiosity. The case might prove to be something entirely new in his professional experience. 'It looks like it,' he thought; 'and it's worth waiting for.'

This is the first business day of the week, those who have jobs, businesses are going. Orhan's a job that has for a long time of course but do not leave a good job does not want to go. Last week, the best job, had lost a dog to search. I thought this job was not as easy for him. To call a man a dog was more difficult to call. Is searching for a man would have, population records, from friends or their most recent work from the work begins, the trace were found. However, if you have lost a dog, was very difficult to find unless you are a rare species. Experience had shown it. Sometimes, it is calling the dog remembers how, could not get laughed at himself. There was a dog in his hand size image. This picture was actually a boy, a dog standing on two legs of the language exposure had given out. Golden yellow color, bright and with wavy hair, low-eared, white on the left to itch a Golden Retriever dog was that genus. Although a rare type of stray dogs looked so ordinary.Although a rare type of stray dogs looked so ordinary. Orhan was between him street by street, a picture showing people that the "name Bead, very valuable is a dog, you will be rewarded by the owner if you say no," he said. Some of my "lost dog will search among the people had better not do?" He even had out badly. Then, two days after a customer was looking for him, the job ended, the dog came home unhurt, he had reported to thank for the ****. He forced the money, said he was glad. In such cases, so that's the case ending in spontaneous, if the call passes through several days are over, the actual wage received was 10%. This was something like consolation for him.

I put on a clean collar. I was in our room on the second floor where I could see into the Hubbel’s yard , and the ring on the stone post where they tie up their dog. The dog wasn’t there. The collar which I took off had two kinds of laundry mark on the inside, one mark from the laundry where I used to take my shirts and a second mark from the present laundry. Then I washed my hands.
The soap was worn down so that there was almost none left. It was as soap that smelled like salad. I turned off the water, but the water still went drip- drip from the faucet. I dried my hands. I hung the towel on the left end of the rod. The right end of the rod is for Mae. The rod is glass and some day it will come loose and fall down and break. I shut the bathroom door so that I would not hear the drip-drip of the water from the faucet.
I went into the room again which is for Mae and mine. On her bed in the day time she keeps a French doll with big eyes. Where the back of the bed hits the wall there is a mark. I moved out the bed, and I saw the mark. It is black and a yard long. The doll fell of and I put it back on the bed so it could not look at me when I went out. Then I went out.
I was is the hall , and I shut my eyes. I didn’t know what kind of wallpaper there was in the hall. I thought that it would be green, but when I opened my eyes again it was more blue than green, with a woman , with a basket, and a lamp. Around the door the wallpaper was cut off, and there was only the lamp; eight times from ceiling to the flour , no woman , and no basket but only the lamp. I could touch to the ceiling when I stood on my toes.
Next to our room is the extra room, which we do not use. I went into that. The back of the mirror was peeling off , and both windows were closed.

On the window there was a large fly, and I opened the window and drove him out and he flew away. And in the window frame there was a long nail ;and I took off my shoe and drove in the nail with the heel of my shoe. Then I put on my shoe again. I measured the room by walking across in each direction from one wall to other . It is ten by fourteen.
I came into the parlor from the door across from the desk. The desk has three drawers down one side. I took out an envelope from the bottom drawer and put some money in it and wrote “ For Mae “ on it and put it on the top of the desk. The curtains in the parlor were red. Where the sun hits them there is a part that is not red , but pink. There was a magazine on the table called Movieland, and I started to read it, but I did not read it. I went over the fireplace and looked at the rest of the room from there , and I saw the table and the carpet and how two chairs were facing right towards each other. I sat down on one of them and one of it’s legs was shorter than the others, and I got up and went into the kitchen.
In the kitchen I saw Mae shelling peas. She forces the peas out of the shell with her thump and they fell into the bowl. There were three peas on the floor and I picked them up and put them in my pocket. The kitchen floor was laid in linoleum with blue and white squares two inches squares. Mae was sitting on a stool, reading a paper placed in front of her. She did not turn around when I came in. She said, ‘’When you come back bring some stove polish with you.’’
I said I was going now.
I went out through the back door into the yard. There I saw my kid playing with some sand and toy truck, and then running the truck back and forth through sand. The sand was wet, and I could see the print of his hand on it. It was his left hand. I said,’ ’so long, son,‘’ to him, but he didn’t say anything. He was too busy with his truck and the sand.

Then I went to the garage, and unlock the door. I ran a cloth over the windshield of the car, and it was scratched in a half circle where the windshield wiper wipes it. And I stood there a couple minutes, and then I closed the doors and walked alongside of the house to the frond and looked at my watch. It was twenty minutes to ten.
Then I walked down the wooden steps to the sidewalk, and I counted the steps. I counted ten steps, I thought I counted the last step, but perhaps I didn’t . I walked down the street, and I looked back, and saw the house , and there was one window with a shade halfway down, and I wanted to go back and count the steps again to make sure, but I didn’t. I walked down to the corner and took the bus and got off at the police station and found Captain Rogers and told him that if they were looking for the man who killed Sam Mathews they should arrest me because I had done it.
Captain Rogers asked me if I want to write out a confession and I said that I would, but before I tell them how I killed Mathews I want to write down the last things which I saw in my house and how I remember them, because now I will want always to be able to remember about all those things that I won’t ever see again.